Show Me Your Sausages
by Hypothetical Situation
Summary: A very hungry Helga goes to visit an old friend at Green Meats butcher shop. A/H. Warning: Strong T rating for suggestive adult themes.


A/N: Hello, readers! This is not really my debut piece here on – I've been working on two other songfics that I had hoped would be posted sooner. Sadly, I have a bad case of writer's block for one of them, so my attention has been focused elsewhere. This was just a little drabble I thought up while trying to go to bed last night. I figured it would make for some interesting writing. I want to clear the air and say that not all of my stories are going to be smut based – I don't want any of my readers to think of me as a crazy, horny, middle-aged man with a strikingly odd shaped mustache. I'm just like any other high school student – bored and imaginative. So sit back, relax, and read!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the _Hey Arnold! _series, including characters and setting.

--

Helga loved going to the butcher shop.

It was a clear spring day. The sun was shining all throughout town. Helga was in her Hillwood apartment writing an article for the local newspaper, admiring the beautiful scenery her window displayed. Loud rumbling from her midsection caused her to glance at the clock on her laptop, which read 12:35 pm. As she rose from her chair, Helga pondered what kinds of food she had in the fridge that she could eat for lunch. Peering into the white box, she found nothing of interest.

Sighing in defeat, she went back to her previous seat near the window. She continued staring out the window, all the while thinking about where she could go in the city to dine on a delicious meal. Suddenly, the familiar red building came into view, a five letter word spread across the bricks above the window. "Of course!" Helga said to herself. She immediately sprang from her chair, ran to the door, threw on her coat, and was outside in mere seconds.

Rounding the corner, Green Meats butcher shop came into her view. Inside the window, she could see an elderly looking woman purchasing a wrapped portion of beef. She paid the young man behind the counter, smiled, and walked out of the shop content. Helga squeezed through the door behind her.

The young man standing behind the cash register looked up at Helga as he removed a pair of gloves from his hands. "Hello, Helga. What can I get for you today?" he asked.

"Hey, Arnold," she responded. Coincidently, both she and Arnold decided to live in Hillwood after graduating college. Helga's journalism career took off like a rocket, while Arnold was struggling to find a decent job. Marty Green, the original owner of Green Meats, had seen Arnold's distress, and offered him half the ownership of the shop. Arnold gratefully accepted, and has since been working full time around the meat he had come to love. "Let's see…What are the specials today? I'm in the mood for something tasty."

"Well," Arnold started, "We've got lamb chops, fresh veal cutlets, prochutto ham…" Arnold rattled off all the specials for the day, showing each piece of meat as he went along. Helga, however, wasn't paying attention. While looking at the displays of meat behind the glass counter, her mind formed a brilliant plan that she couldn't wait to put into action.

"What about sausages?" Helga interrupted.

Arnold was taken aback for a second. "Well…of course we've got sausages. What kind are you interested in?" he questioned.

_Yours,_ Helga wanted to add, but kept her thoughts to herself. "What ones do you have?" Helga questioned back.

Wiping a piece of cornflower hair out of his eye, Arnold began to list every kind of sausage he knew of that was located in the back storage area, "…Italian, Polish, Kielbasa, and Bratwurst. Which one would you like to see?"

"Show me your favorite sausage, Arnold," Helga whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

Arnold, a sexually frustrated man of twenty five, did not know what to make of this comment. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved an Italian sausage from the display in front of him. Grasping it from the middle, he held it up so Helga could see it. "I-Is this what y-you wanted?" he stammered.

Helga smirked. Hiding her amusement, she complained, "Arnold, you're a butcher. Do you not know how to present a piece of meat to a customer? Honestly."

Arnold opened his mouth and attempted to reply, but found that he was at a loss for words. Instead, Helga continued speaking. "Give me a pair of gloves," she demanded, walking behind the meat counter next to Arnold.

Not wanting to disappoint a customer, Arnold handed her a pair of latex gloves. She smacked them on over her hands, and, without wasting time, grabbed her own sausage from the display. She slid her hand so that she was firmly grasping the meat from the bottom. "Watch," she beckoned.

Her right hand wrapped completely around the sausage, while her left hand was positioned under it, showing it off like it was a prize to be won. "This," she began, "is our wonderfully seasoned Italian sausage." Slowly, her right hand began moving up the length of the sausage. "It is very plump and thick." The thumb of her right hand snaked out of her fist, and started to rub the top of the sausage. "The skin is hard and ready to be eaten." Finally, she brought it up to her face, and sniffed it lightly, her eyes fluttering shut and her head tilting back. "The flavor will have you on your knees, begging for another taste."

Arnold's eyes were glued to her movements. His mouth hung open in a stupor, watering at the edges. The obviously pitched tent in his pants would not go away, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

"Well!" Helga snapped her head back up, placing the sausage back in its rightful place. Arnold was startled by the sudden change of tone in her voice, which successfully brought him back from his daydream. "That's how it's done, football head," she finished, pulling off the gloves and placing them in the wastebasket close by. Walking back in front of the counter, she smiled sweetly at Arnold, and said, "I'll take a pound of your finest ham, please."

Arnold, still shocked from the recent events, took his time with packaging the ham, and, with shaky hands, gave it to Helga. Again, she smiled at him. Arnold stood dumbfounded behind the counter. She turned on her heel and walked swiftly out the door, the bell ringing sharply as it shut behind her. The smirk on her face was evident.

Oh yes, Helga _loved _going to the butcher shop.

--

A/N: I hoped you all enjoyed the story. I'll try to post my other stories later on this week, so keep me under your watch if you liked this story. Again, romance and angst stories in the future, not just smut. Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.

Hypothetical Situation


End file.
